


A Mass Of Things

by piecesofalice



Category: Life
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 12:52:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piecesofalice/pseuds/piecesofalice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They broke down her door, yelling her name and his and it sounded like a dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mass Of Things

_"I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore.  
O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains!"_   
Cassio, "The Tragedy of Othello" by William Shakespeare

  
\---

  
They broke down her door, yelling her name and his and it sounded like a dream. Like the time she screamed at Davis, calling her a _bitch slut whore_, breaking the paperweight that held down the evidence of her undercover undoing by throwing it against the office wall with all the hazy strength she had left. Like the time she called her father out for the way he treated his wife and received a backhand across the face, like the time she fucked a suspect two hours before his arrest with her badge cutting into the skin on her hips.

  
Like the time she chased a Long Island Ice Tea with a bottle of whiskey and a speed ball, with her hair down and her senses heightened and whatever precipice she was standing on before long gone, like the time she stopped being Officer Reese and just "Dani" and less than a year later her eyes stung with the tear gas they'd used to hold her and him down from bolting for the back door.

  
She wasn't sure what hurt more, watching the bullet hitting his arm or the knowledge that it wasn't just the gas that was making her weep.

  
\---

_"You're a screw up, Dani,"_ her father yelled, with Davis echoing in kinder words but harsher sentiments because at the end of it all, it was the Lieutenant who could potentially take everything that even mattered to Daniella Reese away.

  
Her skin was yellow. Her hands were filthy and worn.

  
_I got soul, but I'm not a soldier_

  
Her hair was chipped, her voice a monotone.

  
_Don't put me on the backburner_

  
She could hear the tinny background noise of a song that had played just before, a hundred years ago it seemed but it was only yesterday. _I love this band, man! I love them!_ he yelled, over the cacophony and she'd smiled.

  
Her hand itched, she scratched it, and she was glad her mother had refused to see her baby girl like this.

  
"Guns and alcohol don't _mix_, Dani," they'd said, and by way of a response, she put her badge on her bosses' desk and her dignity on her father's, and walked out in a fog of yesterday's tear gas and nail marks.

  
\---

  
She stared at the white walls and thought of all the ways she'd say sorry. The sweat of rehab still remained, but she was getting better, he went on trial and they threw him in jail like the scum she was trying to make herself believe he was.

  
Twenty-eight days in, and she felt like she was sober enough to know better, but somehow she still didn't. So she went to her group therapy, told them what they wanted to hear; what they wanted her to say so they could believe it and tick the boxes and send her back into the wall as fucked up as she was when she first ran into it.

  
It wasn't their fault. It wasn't. It wasn't the police force, her bosses, her parents, her so-called friends. It was him, always him, and the fact she was so damn stupid to fall for the bastard in the first place, even though she told herself then it was her way of integrating into a downward scene, to be accepted into the crowd she'd been sent to entrap.

  
It wasn't their fault.

  
Wasn't it?

  
_Wasn't it?_

  
\---

  
"You just don't act like that, Dani, when you're undercover," said her cousellor. Dani turned away to stare with glassy eyes at the windows that broke the white-walled monotony and wished, oh how she wished, she'd never fallen for that big fish.

  
Dani didn't _want_ to feel this way. She didn't want to clutch at her pillow at night because the need was too fierce, so strong it made her chew on the inside of her cheeks like a washed-up-twenty-something-junkie. Everyday, every second of every moment she tried to remained focused, to channel the strength that had made her a good cop in the beginning but sometimes? Sometimes the feeling that it _just wasn't worth it_ overwhelmed her far too much.

  
Still, she kept going. Kept waking up at night and writing things down in the diary they'd given her, thoughts of food and addiction and the siblings she'd never had. And always, _always_ about him, about how far she went and the times she tried so hard to forget, she couldn't seem to bring herself to remember them during the day.

  
Everyday, her face looked less puffy, her hair a little cleaner. She could read a whole newspaper article without needing a break to stare into space, she could hold a conversation about the NFL or how GPS in cars was the best thing since power steering.

  
But everyday, especially around lights out, she still felt false; like the real her had been left in that hotel room in a cloud of tear gas and loud, booming voices even though she knew she couldn't think like that.

  
She just couldn't think. Like. That. Any. More.

  
The tips of her fingers tickled, and the therapists said it was just the feeling coming back after so many months on so many drugs.

  
Dani stared at her hands and wondered why she hadn't noticed that the feeling had even gone.

  
\---

  
Jack Reese stared at her from across the white table, his hands clutched in front of him, a box of chocolates to his left.

  
"They're for you."

  
"Thanks."

  
"Are you eating?"

  
"Sure."

  
"Karen's looking forward to you coming back."

  
"Great."

  
"Don't you feel good about going back?"

  
"Sure, Dad. Sure."

  
Screwing up her face, she opened the box and tried to taste a chocolate. Her father left then, muttering his false goodbyes and punching the number of his ex-partner into his cell before he'd even left the room.

  
It was like learning to breathe again, every time he left.

  
\---

  
The last partner she'd been paired with since getting out of rehab was a dick with a love of pop psychology. He'd always flinched when she reached for her service weapon, always screwed up his face when they had investigated some druggies. She ended up punching him in the face and had only escaped suspension because of the steady hand of Karen Davis, and as a result, had to take it plainly on the chin when she told Dani of her pairing with the Crews guy.

  
"Don't screw this up, Dani," rang in her ears as she headed out to meet her new partner.

  
It was the same thing her father had said when he had picked her up from rehab, and her fingertips began to prickle.

  
\---

  
"Did you visit him?"

  
"What?"

  
"Did you visit him in jail?"

  
"No."

  
"Why?"

  
"Crews."

  
"You loved him, didn't you?"

  
Dani clutched the wheel, stared ahead. Charlie's eyes bore into the side of her head.

  
She almost cried in relief when the suspect they'd been watching barreled out of the house in front of them, a gun in his hand.

  
\---

  
The arrest went badly, and there was a cut on her mouth and a bruise forming on his eye. He touched her lip, and she flinched, the blue and red lights causing her eyes to tear at the edges and he pulled back.

  
"Sorry," he said, his hand in the air, and she pushed her own fingers to her mouth.

  
"No, it's fine." The blood was congealed, and she knew that it would keep until the paramedics got to her. Their suspect was pushed against the hood of a cop car, his lungs straining with the profanities flowing from his mouth and they both looked away, heavy with their injuries and the knowledge that the woman their suspect had killed was now able to rest in some sort of peace, if they'd both believed in that sort of stuff.

  
"Guns and alcohol don't mix," Charlie muttered.

  
"No," she replied, and something echoed from long ago.

  
"I'm glad you're okay."

  
Dani looked to the ground, and her head hurt. It hurt because her partner was a moron, he was a nice guy, she hadn't had a drink for months and she felt like she should answer Charlie's question from back in the car, but she just couldn't.

  
"Thank you."

  
"Reese." She looked up, and he pushed an antiseptic square he seemed to grab out of thin air against her lip, following it with a tiny strip of bandage. He leaned back, and seemed to take her in like a picture, and for a moment, Dani thought she saw something like understanding in his eyes. "Perfect."

  
"Thank you," she repeated, except this time he read between the lines and saw that hazy night and the tear gas, and he nodded.

  
"You're welcome," and for once, she knew she was.

  
\---

  
_Fin._

  
\---


End file.
